


Mein Kätzchen

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, Don't know what do put in them anways, Fluff, Italy in Kitten Ears, Kitten Kink, Kitty Ears, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Smut, alright I'll stop with the tags, and the shitty characterization, basically the general shittiness, germany's choices are swayed at night, hella cute, i apologize for the shitty wording, kind of, literally just an excuse for smut, more smut that fluff though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2478005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kitten ears and a redfaced Italy at his door at midnight is all it takes for Germany to question all his life choices.</p><p>—pure geritalia smut, I am not sorry</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mein Kätzchen

**Author's Note:**

> So, first Hetalia fic. This is my first time writing smut, sorry about the general shittiness.
> 
> Enjoy nonetheless, and if you see any glaringly obvious mistakes, please comment and tell me!
> 
> I unfortunately do not speak any German or Italian, this is all from a translator ;-; Feel free to hit me if I make mistakes.
> 
> Oh and title is "My Kitten" supposedly.

Germany really should not have opened the door. In fact, judging by the ungodly time and his incredibly warm bed and the sleep tugging at his eyelids (three reasons he considered to be incredibly valid), he shouldn't have gotten up at all. He almost expected for the doorbell to be rung repeatedly until the person had either broken his doorbell or thumb, which ever came first, but after one hesitatant chime, it stopped. Germany lay in bed, grateful before he heard a small whimper from his open window. He was a strict man, yes, but not a cruel one, but he grudgingly rolled out of bed, stomped downstairs and opened his door with a less than eloquent grunt and an rant that tumbled out as a very unmanly squeak as he saw Italy standing at the door.

Italy, sweet, innocent Italy, standing there with an embarrassed, sheepish smile and his eyes darting everywhere else but Germany's way. His hair was windblown and messy as always and he was shivering slightly...and shit, what the fuck was he wearing?

Germany leaned against the doorframe, hissing out a breath he didn't realize he was even holding until he exhaled, and counted to ten. His self control was certainly something he prided himself on, but the boy dangerously was close to breaking that self control he had worked so hard to build up. He shut his eyes, a hand absentmindedly running through sleep tousled hair and desperately forcing his pulse to fall back into the typically steady rhythm. This boy right in from of him, tested this self control more than the most tantalizing cake ever would (not that Germany was particularly fond of sweets either way). 

Slowly, he opened his eyes, finally refocusing them on Italy.

He was wearing barely legal little black shorts that barely covered anything (intentionally, of course) and emphasized the curves of that perfect little ass that Germany wanted nothing more than to touch. His eyes swept down to ravish in the exposed pale flesh and legs which were bare except for the lacy black stockings that encased perfectly around the faintly muscled calves and extending into black combat boots but leaving creamy yet toned thighs visible. Germany's gaze finally rested upon the boy's upper body; he was clothed in a oversized green army jacket that was battered and worn with age, hanging off his chest loosely. The jacket dipped low and cut off at an inch before his prominent hipbones and slim waist, showing off a fair amount of the younger's flat, toned stomach, pale complexion and collarbones that needed to be peppered with a few bruises and bites. 

And what was that resting atop his head? Yes, they were really a pair of tabby kitten ears that perked up from a head of soft brown curls. His breath hitched at the sight of them and almost instantaneously his eyes darted down to a fluffy gray tuft that protruded from his cute little ass to resemble a kitten tail. 

Germany spoke, and he was more proud that he should be when his voice didn't shake or tremble. "Why are you here, Italy?" He tugged his blue robe around him self consciously, attempting to hid his hardening erection. The drowsiness that clouded his mind half a minute ago had disappeared completely.

The smaller, scantily clad boy finally looked up, his cheeks dusted with a faint rosy colour, "Romano dared me to," he muttered, his eccentric personality gone and as he glanced up, Germany could truly see the fear that lingered in the Italian's beautiful brown eyes. Fear that he would yell at him or slam the door on him without so much a backwards glance. "D-do you like it?" His gaze had refocused at the ground again and he mindlessly pulled his shorts down to cover more of his legs, accidentally revealing his v-line as he did. 

The German swallowed with difficulty as the Italian looked up to him with apprehensive eyes, wringing his hands together anxiously as he shifted from foot to foot. He was clearly cold, judging by his reddened cheeks (though he suspected the embarrassment had quite a bit to do with it) and the occasionally shudder that wracked the Italian's trembling body. It took large amount of effort to tear his darkened blue orbs away from Italy's outfit, and he was so proud when he did, his gaze devoid of any shame as they rose up to meet Italy's. 

"Come in," Germany immediately offered, feeling guilty for not answering sooner. "It's not exactly warm out." It would probably be that he would be getting no sleep tonight, just with the thoughts of Italy, but he really couldn't find it in him to care. "I'll make you some pasta and we can talk about..." his breath caught in his throat again, "...how Romano pressured you into this," he finished finally, stepping back graciously to let Italy in, opening his door wider.

The little Italian hesitated a little, searching the German's eyes for confirmation that it wasn't some type of cruel joke and nodded a little, slowly striding past the taller blonde into the dark home, his hips swaying and ass bouncing teasingly with each step. When he shut the door careful and inhaled, Italy had flicked on the lights and was hugging himself with thin arms, shivering slightly. Germany's mind hissed as some very inappropriate thoughts of just bending Italy right then and there and fucking him senseless. He went over to the kitchen, picking up a bottle of olive oil and some tomato sauce.

Suddenly, Italy bent down to pick up a discarded blanket and Germany sighed heavily as felt what little self control he possessed at that moment snap as he set the two bottles down, moved closer to Italy, arms wrapping around the Italian's narrow hips and gently pressing soft kisses onto the boy's shoulder blades. A pleasant gasp escaped Italy's mouth as he pushed back into the touch happily, obliging as the German suckled and nipped at his neck, leaving pink bruises and bites in stark contrast to his complexion. A hand drifted down to squeeze the Italian's ass, earning a little moan as he rolled his hips. 

"O-oh, Germany. Si," the Italian moaned shamelessly, arching back into the German's touch. "Y-you didn't t-tell me if y-you liked the outfit," the sentence was punctured with a breathy gasp and the Italian struggled for words as Germany's hands moved beneath his jacket to rest against bare skin, fingers lightly grazing his hardened nipples.

"Oh, Italy," Germany sighed contentedly, turning the Italian around, only to lift him up into an embrace with his solid, warm arms. Italy snuggled closer into his chest and wrapped his long legs around the German's waist as he strode over to the kitchen island, sweeping whatever paperwork his boss generously graced him with and setting Italy down on the smooth marble surface. "I love it very much," his voice lowered as his hot breath grazed the shell of the Italian's ear. "But I think it would like it better if it was gone." To emphasize this point, he moved his hands to the jacket and tugged it over Italy's head, but unfortunately it got caught with the kitten ears. In frustration, the Italian began to remove the headpiece that finished the ensemble, but Germany stopped him with a firm hand.

"Leave it there," he whispered, and Italy barely managed a throaty laugh before the German turned his attention back to his nipples, wrapping his mouth around the hardened nub. He swirled his tongue around it, biting lightly and suckling gently, ravishing in the approving sounds that the little Italian made. All the adorable little sounds he made went straight to his cock, which was hardening at a rapid speed. He allowed a small smile to grace his lips and moved to the other nipple, a hand drifting down and tugging at the little boy shorts, pulling them down to the Italian's ankles. The boots came off with them and he pulled back, allowing himself a moment to admire the beautiful man in front of him.

Italy, the modest one he was, flushed a shy shade of pink, the colour tinting his perfectly round cheeks and Germany felt a surge of protectiveness and possession of the little Italian. "You're really fucking beautiful, Italy," he murmured against his shoulder. A firm finger underneath the Italian's chin forced the naked boy to look directly into his glazed blue orbs. "Sometimes people stare at you and I just want to kick their goddamn faces in. There are those times I just want to strap you to my bed and fuck you until all you remember is my name," he growled, dipping his head to latch his mouth on one of Italy's nipples again, biting and suckling his way up to his neck. There would be some considerable bruises there in the morning, and he tenderly kissed each one with a gentleness most never thought the big blonde man was capable of.

Italy, however, blushed even harder, and muttered self consciously, "Have y-you seen yourself, Germany? You could have any-anyone you l-liked," he gasped a little as fingers brushed against his cock, wet and weeping precome. The German pressed two fingers to the Italian's dick and licked off the precome, relishing and surprisingly liking the almost sweet taste. Italy moaned at the sensation of Germany's fingers on his cock, shamelessly thrusting his hips.

"Oh, my little sweet Italy," he muttered breathily, "How I am going to fuck you." He yanked away his robe to expose his bare chest, muscular with the rigorous training and a tent in his thin boxers. "Is this your first time?" he asked, cradling the boy in his strong arms. Italy looked down at Germany and blushed, burying his face in Germany's shoulder.

Italy finally lifted his head after a moment and responded with a weak nod, looking away shyly as if he thought Germany was going to be angry with him. On the contrary, Germany was fucking ecstatic as he pulled the smaller man impossibly closer, positioning himself in between his long legs. "Have you kissed someone before, Italy?" He asked again. The boy shook his head and Germany felt a surge what he could only describe as genuine happiness coursing through his body, warming every inch of him. He propped Italy upright and moved forward to pepper his face with light, chaste kisses; on his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, before gently pressing his lips onto Italy's.

The Italian had never felt such a sensation before; it was like he had been thrown into midair and was free falling as he let himself to be captured by the German's mouth. Two hands wrapped around Germany's neck, crushing their lips closer and the German's hands carded through his curls, being careful not to brush against that sensitive one. The kiss began close mouthed and sweet, but as Italy moaned openly against Germany, the other wasted no time shoving his tongue into Italy's warm, wet cavern. Italy hungrily pressed their sweat slick bodies together, longing for that skin-to-skin contact with the German, and was not disappointed as the blonde man obliged.

The blonde man rolled his hips against the Italian's, groaning a little at the direct contact and his painfully hard cock. The Italian threw his head back so hard that Germany was almost worried that he'd hit his head and severely injure himself on his marble countertop, but he only cried out in pleasure as Germany stroked his erection. The taller man grunted as he looked to the writhing, moaning mess that was Italy for one last consent. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked softly, "I won't be hurt if you say no." Between laboured breaths and moans, the Italian nodded vigorously. "Si, fuck me, Germany."

Germany stroked his thigh with his free hand as he fumbled in the drawers for some lube, and eventually found some, ripping the sliver package and pouring a copious amount on his fingers. He leaned forward and kissed Italy on the cheek. "Enjoy," he whispered, inserting the finger slowly and gently into Italy.

The Italian barely flinched and Germany marvelled at how loose (rather; how much looser than Germany suspected him to be, yet he was still relatively tight for a virgin) he was, thrusting his hips back wantonly, timing himself with each thrust of the German's finger. "Do you do this all the time, Italy?" he growled, "Think about me while fingering yourself?" 

"O-oh, fuck, si, Germany," Italy choked a little. He managed to give a cheeky little grin despite the fact he was trembling like a leaf in Germany's strong embrace, "O-oh, per favore, si." Germany smiled; he rather liked reducing the Italian down to only profanity and pleading Italian words, and he could feel his own erection growing even harder. The Italian's slender legs spread farther apart.

To distract the brunet, he began stroking Italy's cock, while discreetly adding a second finger. Italy winced a little at first as he tried to adjust to the larger intrusion, but the furrow between his brows soon lessened as the blonde took up a scissoring motion inside him, stretching him even more. He whined and writhed, trying to rock his hips only to be restrained by a strong hand. The noises he elicited only added to the German's erection. He aimed his thrusts even deeper into Italy, and found his prostate soon enough after he had added another finger, which slipped in easily with the generous amount of lube. The Italian cried out in pure bliss, a warmth building up in his stomach, begging to be released; his blunt nails dug into the German's broad shoulders, scratching down his arm as he moaned openly, making no effort to hide his noises. His eyes darted as Italy's greedy body sucked in his fingers as he pumped them in and out at a comfortable pace.

With a truly admirable amount of effort, Germany pulled his fingers out of Italy, who whined a little at the loss but his eyes widened at the length and size of Germany's hardened cock. He took his own arousal in a hand, poured a considerable amount of the shiny liquid on it, and gave it a quick stroke. He kissed the Italian's stomach in resassourance, and all while massaging the brunet's thigh, he slowly pushed into Italy, moving past the tight ring of muscle. Italy grimaced a little, thin brows drawing together at the burning sensation, but still he panted and nodded wordlessly for Germany to move. The larger nation's blue orbs squeezed shut at how tight the Italian was around him, and he paused to catch his breath, attempting to move slowly and being careful not to hurt the younger nation too much. Italy, meanwhile, bit down into his shoulder, grimacing with some pain. "Oh, fu-u-uck," he moaned a little at the sensation of being enveloped by such a hot warmth. "Shit, you're so tight." 

Italy only responded with a groan, and Germany thrusted in slowly, moving in and out at a steady pace, and the Italian's pained grimaces soon turned to moans as he moved in sync with the German. "G-ger...many," he whimpered, his name falling out of his mouth along with several profanities. The larger nation attempted to keep a slow pace, but with Italy's legs wrapping around him and pulling him in closer, he couldn't fight against something he didn't want to fight against.

He slammed into Italy and the boy screamed, hips arching and jerking back down erratically on the blonde's dick. His legs spread wider for easier access and Germany moaned at the way Italy felt around him; he had found his prostate on the first try. He began to move, keeping the pace tortuously slow as to be careful not to hurt the Italian. Beneath him, Italy was a screaming, sobbing mess, tenaciously clutching to the German, pushing him in farther, rocking his hips to accompany Germany's thrusts.

"O-oh, Germany," he cried, arms wrapped around the blonde man tightly and fingernails scraped down his well muscled back, leaving scratches that would be visible the next morning, but Germany couldn't find it in him to give a damn. "Fu-u-uck, don't stop," the beautiful man beneath him sobbed, pleasureful sparks shooting up his spine. The German began an assault on his prostate, hammering hard and harsh into the Italian, his own moans loud. The Italian screamed himself hoarse, feeling his climax near, his hands clawing at Germany's broad shoulders, nails digging into flesh. Profanity and Germany's name fell from his lips like a prayer, though it was not spoken in hushed tones. 

"Think of me, Italy," Germany growled. "Only I can give you this!" He punctured the sentence with a even harder jab at his prostate for emphasis.

"Si, si," Italy managed to gasp between strangled moans and sobs of pleasure. "F-f-fuck, Germany, dio mio, I'm going to come!" His entire body shook violently, his small frame wracking with every blissful moan. Their voices intertwined together in a harmony of strangled noises and flesh slapping against flesh; Germany had never felt so human before.

"Come for me, Italy," he ordered, his breath coming out in short, harsh pants. "Scream." 

Italy's legs wound around Germany's hips and drew him in impossibly closer as the German leaned down and kissed Italy — his Italy — on bruised and swollen lips, a hand carding through his hair and tugging at that one curl. "Ti amo, Germany!" The Italian screamed as his climax came, his seed painting his stomach white; for Germany, those two words were all it took, another thrust, he groaned Italy's name in a string of curses as he released his seed deep into Italy. The two shared a minute of pure bliss, sweat slick and naked bodies pressed against each other. 

It was Germany who recovered first, and he propped Italy up, who was splayed on the counter, exhuasted and completely spent. His curls fell away from his face, tousled with their activities but his eyes were bright and beautiful as always. He asked, "Did you mean it?"

The Italian boy smiled, and there about nothing weak about it, in contrary to his sore physical state. Nimble fingers came up to caress Germany's cheek but those gorgeous eyes were focused on the come that was pooling on the floor, cheeks tinted with their usual glow, perhaps a little redder than usual due to embarrassment. "Yes," he swallowed, voice cracking a little from all the moaning. "I meant it, Germany. Ti amo, Germany, and I will say it as many times as it will take for you to believe me," his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed again, this time with some more difficulty. "But if you don't feel the same way, I understand."

Germany hesitated; he knew exactly how he felt about Italy but his lack of eloquence in such emotional matters made him pause as he searched for the right word to describe the feelings he possessed. After a moment of awkward silence where Germany was lost in his own thoughts, Italy slid off the table, hastily wiping away falling tears and stumbled a little before regaining his balance and beginning to walk over to his discarded clothes. The silence from Germany he took as a rejection, and tears that pricked his eyes he fought hard to keep back spilled down his flushed cheeks. "I'm sorry..." the Italian boy whispered hoarsely, fingers gripping the marble countertop as he struggled to remain on his feet; he was clearly still sore despite the careful preparation. Inside Germany's heart twisted as he watched the boy wobble. With every step away Germany felt his stomach clench, like it was being squeezed by a cold fist, and for the first time, something that resembled desperation or a cold dread settled in his stomach.

So say it without words.

He stepped over to Italy, who was bending down to pick up the skimpy shorts and on shaky legs, Germany scooped up Italy bridal-style and trudged up the stairs before setting him gently on his bed and straddling the Italian between his legs. "Ich liebe dich," he murmured against his mouth before kissing Italy properly, all exploring tongues and open mouths, and while it was sloppy and clumsy and uncoordinated, Germany couldn't have loved it more because it didn't matter — it was Italy, kissing back just as feverently. "I love you," he repeated almost giddily, the unfamiliar words rolling off his tongue in a foreign way.

A lone tear escaped a glossy brown eye, and Germany kissed it away, a kiss not as passionate but equally affectionate. "I love you," Italy whispered, more tears streaming out of his eyes, yet this time they of another emotion entirely. Yet Germany kissed them away nevertheless, just soft, sweet presses of his chapped lips against moist skin. Gone was the lust and now his warm orbs were replaced with an emotion that could be only described as only utter love and adoration. 

The smaller nation snuggled into the German, tucking his head at the crook of Germany's shoulder and pressing warm lips to the vein on Germany's neck. Within minutes he was asleep, and very carefully, as not to disturb the sleeping boy, Germany pulled the blanket down on both of them. His hand ran through his Italian lover's curls absentmindedly, finally resting on the little kitten ears that managed to remain on his head in spite of their activities. Perhaps it was only a figment of his imagination, but he could have sworn he heard purring, rumbling deep from Italy's stomach as his erratic heartbeat fell into a steady rhythm with Germany's.

"Ich liene dich, mein Kätzchen."

**Author's Note:**

> //hides in shame for the rest of her existence


End file.
